


Hold On

by Stariceling



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan has had a bad day. Sock fails at making it worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on some of Renren’s (transparent-buns) headcanons when we were talking the other day. Basically that Jonathan might actually be comforted in a twisted way by things going wrong, because that is what he expects. I really wanted to play with the idea a little, but then it just kinda got into cuddling, whoops. Wallowing in angst yet mildly fluffy.
> 
> Also, many thanks to slr2moons for helping me with title flailings and saving me from my typos. *drags you into W2H fandom with her*

Jonathan slammed the front door in Sock’s face. He waited a moment, glaring at the blank wood, until Sock stuck his upper body through the door.

“What are you so mad about? You said it was going to be a bad day, and you were right!”

“You made it worse.”

“Don’t hate me for being good at my job.”

“Just go to Hell. Take a break or something,” Jonathan grumbled. He dragged his way up to his room, knowing Sock would follow him within a few minutes.

Sock had made it his job to distract Jonathan during his math test by telling him everyone else’s answers (which were probably wrong, knowing Sock), to tease him mercilessly in gym class, and to sing the song that never ends through his whole after school detention (for disrupting class, which was _also_ Sock’s fault). Sock was very good at being an unrelenting pest.

Jonathan fell into bed, pressing his face into the pillow until he could barely breathe. It was fine. He was used to this. He was used to Sock. It wasn’t like he expected anything else. He just had to keep reminding himself of that, because he kept wanting today to be over even knowing that tomorrow wouldn’t be any different.

He could practically sense Sock floating over him, and twisted his head just far enough out of pillow oblivion to glare at the demon with one eye.

Sock was twisting his scarf between his hands. “So, you really had a bad day.”

Jonathan let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah. Also, I still hate you.”

“That’s good!” Sock beamed at him.

Jonathan turned his face back into the pillow. He could almost feel Sock flop down on the bed beside him, his presence carrying no more weight than a tickling breeze. When Jonathan stole another peek at him he was wiggling around, trying to fit himself along Jonathan’s side but obviously having difficulty due to being intangible.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a break?”

“Do you have to do that here?”

“Hey, it’s hard work being around you all day.” Sock pulled his mouth into an exaggerated frown. “You’re so apathetic and grouchy, if you smiled your face would crack.”

Jonathan’s jaw tightened with the strength of his frown. “If I’m so difficult to be around why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Well, I. . . you know why I can’t leave.”

Jonathan glared until he succeeded in making Sock bite his lower lip uncomfortably, then turned his face away again.

“Jonathan.”

Gripping his pillow with both hands, Jonathan pretended to ignore the plaintive whine. When Sock left that would mean he was right about this too, that Sock was actually a demonic-level jerk who would never hang around him if not for his job.

“Jonathan,” Sock persisted, louder this time.

It was just Sock’s job. No one wanted to be around him, and there was no reason Sock would be any different.

“Jon-a-than,” Sock dragged his name out, his breath crawling ghostly cold across the back of Jonathan’s neck.

“Hey,” Jonathan answered, unable to put any real irritation into his tone as he turned once again towards Sock. He must be more tired than he realized. “What do I have to do to make you shut up?”

Sock’s face lit up in a grin as he held out his hand. They both knew exactly what it would take to distract Sock from putting in overtime on being a pest. As far as Jonathan could tell he just wanted attention. He had pestered Jonathan like this so many times, trying to wiggle close enough to touch, that they had developed an unspoken truce. If Jonathan offered him attention freely, that was usually enough to satisfy him.

Jonathan reached across the gap and clasped Sock’s hand. For an instant there was an impression of trying to grasp cold air, but then Sock’s hand was warm and solid in his, and Jonathan thought once again he must have imagined it. Sock was always solid when he reached out to touch him.

Sock dove into him. He nuzzled his face into Jonathan’s chest so eagerly his hat kept bumping into Jonathan’s chin. Jonathan kept his hand on Sock, smoothing his palm up along Sock’s arm and over his shoulder to finally rest between his shoulder blades.

For some reason Sock was incapable of sitting still, even once he got what he wanted. One of his legs wormed its way between Jonathan’s, while the other hooked up over his thigh. He was hugging Jonathan, but he still had to use his hands. He rubbed them up and down Jonathan’s back, slipping one up under his hoodie while the other played with the fine hairs at the back of his neck. He kept squirming against Jonathan as if they could possibly be pressed any closer.

Somehow Jonathan ended up slipping both arms around Sock so that he was holding the wiggly demon in a full hug. He rested his chin on Sock’s head and let his eyes slide closed.

“I didn’t really mean what I said before.” Sock cupped a hand around Jonathan’s ear and stretched up to whisper to him. “I don’t mind. . .”

“You’re supposed to shut up,” Jonathan interrupted. He squeezed Sock in retaliation, holding his own breath at how close they were pressed together for several heartbeats. Even once he relaxed his grip to the point where it was comfortable, Sock didn’t try to finish what he had been saying.

Jonathan was used to thinking that everything would go wrong, that Sock would only be malicious, that he was better off alone. He was used to being right about those things. It was scary to think that someone, someone who got under his skin and made him smile, might actually want to be close to him. So while Sock snuggled against him, ran eager hands all over him, or licked sweat from his throat to taste the salt, Jonathan just wanted to hold on for a little while.


End file.
